Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chef knew exactly what he was doing and his confidence made itself known every time he plunged his cock into her with a skilled roll of his hips. His hands gripped the undersides of her thighs and widened them, forcing her to take everything he was giving her no matter how overwhelming it was. Sugar didn’t have the strength to open her eyes as she was too lost in the pleasure she was receiving—she was taking. She gasped sharply as he reared his hips back and slid back inside her with a single rough deep thrust before he went back to what he was giving her: slow deliberate fucking. Now that her jaw was dropped and her mouth was opened, he took the opportunity to swoop down to slip his tongue inside, tasting her as he kissed her.

He was intentionally driving her crazy. She had a strong suspicion that he wanted to do everything in his power to make her miss him—to make her come back to him—and she couldn’t deny it was working. Sugar unintentionally broke the kiss as she jerked her head back, moaning loudly as the delicious crescendo her ecstasy kept building and building and building.

Chef chuckled darkly for a moment before he questioned, “You enjoyin’ yourself, darlin’? You enjoyin’ what I’m givin’ you?”

Sugar nodded her head frantically, but her overloading brain couldn’t send any words to her mouth that was too busy moaning and crying out. He dipped his head down, brushing his lips against her ear.

“Open your eyes. I want you to see us,” he whispered huskily, taking the moment to swivel his hips as he continued to fuck her like he wanted to pamper her and punish her all at once. Sugar forced her eyelids open just as he pulled himself back, giving her a perfect view of his white cock disappearing inside her drenched pussy.

He let go off one of her thighs and used his free hand to brush his thumb against her pulsing clit over and over alongside the rhythm of him pumping his thick dick into her. Her pussy squeezed him tightly and her hips arched off the bed as he strummed her clit like her body was an instrument and she made pleasurable sounds to match the philosophy.

“Mm,” he moaned appreciatively. “You feel like heaven, Sugar.”

“And…oh, god…you’re giving me hell,” she rasped out breathlessly without thinking, mesmerized by his cock sinking into her over and over. She had never felt so overwhelmed. He chuckled once more. It was a low and husky sound that washed over her and made her twice as wet.

This was too much.

He was too much.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she whimpered as she suffered with teetering at the edge, but unable to fall over. She looked up at him, drinking in the sight of his arrogant smirk. He was holding her impending orgasm hostage, but soon, he switched up his tempo, fucking her a little harder and faster. Pampering her clit with rougher strokes of his thumb. Her mouth gaped open and she arched her back as she was on the verge of surrendering to her orgasm. He sandwiched her swollen clit between two fingers and rolled it. She tossed her head back and came hard. She screamed silently. Her pussy tightened around him in frantic pulses as the orgasm ripped through her. Chef now pounding her pussy as he grew closer to his release. He groaned loudly as he came inside of her, pumping his cock into her a few more times before he stilled himself.

She was a quivering bundle of nerves as she came down from her ecstasy high.

Chef rolled off her, falling onto an empty spot beside her.

Their chests heaved up and down as their lungs fought for breath. Sugar stared at the ceiling, mesmerized by the blinking dots of warm colors that fluttered around in her vision. She was absolutely spent, her pussy was thoroughly fucked, and her body was slick with sweat and deliciously sore.

Chef then sat up, running his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair before he climbed out of bed.

“Where are you going,” Sugar asked breathlessly. “Aren’t you tired?”

She was absolutely fucking exhausted.

This man knew how to work a woman’s body.

“Honey, what we just did is my preferred method of startin’ the day,” Chef stated with a sexy grin. She looked at him disbelief, still panting heavily as if she had just ran a lengthy marathon.

She then asked, “What time is it?”

“Not even five o’clock yet. You’ve got plenty of time,” he said.

“Plenty of time for what? I don’t think I can handle another round of that, Chef. I have to be able to walk today at work.”

“You ain’t gotta worry, darlin’. I know when my work’s done,” he said, winking at her as he made his way towards the bedroom doorway, naked as the day he was born. “You’ve got plenty of time to rest.”

Then he disappeared into the hallway.

Now left alone, it didn’t take much for Sugar to drift off to sleep.

About an hour and a half later, she awoke alone.She sat up slowly, holding a navy-hued bedsheet against her bare chest. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, vivid memories of the last few hours replayed behind her eyelids. A reminiscing smile curled at her lips. Opening her eyes, she glanced to the left of her where Chef should’ve been. Instead, she realized that there was a trail of candyfloss pink rose petals leading off the bed.

She cocked her head in confusion and leaned over the trail, arching her neck to only discover the trail continued the bedroom floor and led towards a closed bathroom door. She slipped out of the bed and carefully followed the petals, her heart racing with excitement. She twisted the doorknob and eased the door open hesitantly.

Inside the depths of the darkened bathroom was an overwhelming warm flood of soft amber glow from a sea of lit white candles with flickering flames. The path of petals guided her straight to a bathtub filled with steamy hot water and plenty of floating petals. All she could do was stand in the doorway, blinking at the view in utter surprise.

After she swallowed down her state of awe, she ventured into the bathroom and eased herself into the bathtub, sinking into the hot water. She sighed heavily in contentment as she relaxed, leaning her head against the back of the tub. Her fingertips grazed a few soft petals playfully. There was a pink loofa and a bottle of jasmine body wash. She put them to good use as she took her time washing herself.

“Room service.”

Sugar looked over at Chef filling the bathroom doorway with a serving tray. He was shirtless and only wore some dark boxer-briefs. He came inside and placed the tray down. The tray fit perfectly across the width of the bathtub. She gazed down at a flute of bubbly champagne with plump strawberry as a garnish on the rim, a plate with a stack of two french toasts drizzled in whip cream and topped with fresh raspberries and blackberries, and lastly, a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.

She didn’t know how to feel about him pampering her like this.

“Chef,” she trailed off, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“I give, you take,” he reminded her as he bent down to kiss her forehead. “Take what I give you.”

He plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry from its plate and brought it to her lips. “Enjoy it, darlin’.”

Sugar gazed up at him as she parted her lips to accept the offering. She sunk her teeth into the ripe strawberry, moaning a little as she savored the flavors on her tongue. She swallowed it. With another bite, the strawberry was gone. Some juices glistened on her mouth and he gently wiped his thumb across her lips to gather it up before he licked it off his thumb. She didn’t think him doing that would affect her, but it did. He made everything look so damn sexy!

Chef backed away from the tub and sat down on the closed toilet seat, his eyes never leaving her.

“Why don’t you join me,” she asked before she took a sip of the champagne.

“I already took a shower while you were slept,” he admitted, “Plus, I love watchin’ you.”

Her heart fluttered at the last part of his statement.

“Sounds boring,” she said half-jokingly.

“Trust me, honey, it ain’t,” he said in a serious tone.

She cut her eyes away from him and proceeded to enjoy the breakfast spread he made for her. With a fork and knife, she tasted the french toast. It tasted old-fashion with sprinkle of childhood memories and love like it was a family recipe.

“Last night, I saw a picture of you as a little boy sitting on a diner counter with a chef hat.”

“What about it?”

“Well, I noticed that there was an older man in the photo wearing an apron with your family name on it. Did your family own a restaurant back in Louisiana when you’re growing up?”

Chef nodded his head, his expression changing to a more somber tone. “It’s still there.”

“Who runs it now?”

There was a long moment of silence. “My parents.”

Sugar blinked her eyes in surprise. He always mentioned how his grandparents were the ones to raise him. He had never spoke of his parents, so she had always assumed that they had passed away when he was a child.

“You said your grandparents raised you.”

“They did,” he affirmed.

Sugar looked at him in confusion.

He then explained coolly, “My parents had a list of priorities…that didn’t include me.”

She casted her eyes downward, guilty flooding her as she realized that this was an uncomfortable topic for him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“It ain’t a sore subject. I’ve made peace with my past. The two of them are the ones who have to live with their mistakes,” he paused for a moment as if he were debating on whether to dive further into his painful past to satisfy her curiosity. “My parents were musicians.”

“Country musicians? Rock and roll?”

“Jazz,” he corrected her.

She picked up another chocolate-covered strawberry and bit into it. That explained why he took her to a jazz club of all places. He had a history with jazz.

“They had their own jazz band back in the 60s and 70s. My father was a very talented instrumentalist. He played the piano, trumpet, and the drums. My mother’s passion was singin’. They made their livin’ playing in bars, juke joints, and restaurants in any and all parishes. They weren’t too pleased to have me and they dropped me off at my father’s parents when I was only a few weeks old,” he said. “It was the right thing to do. The only other right decision was namin’ me after Miles Davis.”

Sugar’s eyebrows rose. “You’re named after Miles Davis, the famous trumpet player?”

Chef shook his head, smiling a little. “My mother was in love with Miles Davis’ music growin’ up. If she had a choice, I’m sure she would’ve married him if she could back then.”

She giggled. “I’m pretty sure Miles Davis wouldn’t have married a white woman back then.”

“She might have had a chance. My mother’s Creole,” he said.

Shock rocked Sugar. “You’re mixed?”

“One-fourth black and three-fourths white. My mother’s family are black Creoles who are very light skin, but my mother’s father was white. My father’s side of the family are Cajun through n’ through.”

“Do you talk to your mother’s side of the family often?”

“My grandmama’s goin’ on 87 next year. She’s the only grandparent I got left. I call her every Sunday to see how she doin’ and when I visit take my annual trip to back home, my cousins always drag me down to New Orleans to get into some trouble,” Chef said with a slight chuckle, a reminiscing smile tugging at his lips. Sugar adored the way he looked in that moment.

She cocked her head to the side, admiring him. “That sounds really nice.”

“You should come with me next time. Memaw would love you,” he said.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest at his offering, but she decided to brush it off by teasing him. “Memaw, huh? She sounds like a force to be reckoned with.”

“Then the two of ya’ll have somethin’ in common.”

Her skin felt warm and tingly at his words.

She lifted her flute of champagne to her lips and smoothly drained the bubbly contents to give her mouth something to do while she contemplated how to reject him even though the idea of going to Louisiana to meet his family excited her. However, Sugar had to remind herself what type of thing this was between them. It wasn’t her place to meet his grandmother. She wasn’t his girlfriend or fiancée. She wasn’t even a friend.

She was…

She didn’t know what the fuck she was.

She didn’t know what the fuck he was anymore.

She cleared her throat, deciding to change the subject all together. “I think it’s time for me to go home. I have to get ready for work soon.”

Raising to her feet, she stepped out of the tub. Chef rose from where he sat and grabbed a thick fluffy towel. She reached for the towel, but he took it upon himself to wrap it around her dripping body. He dipped his head down to kiss her softly. She couldn’t help but moan.

“You can run all you like, darlin’, but you should know from last night and this mornin’ I’ve got the stamina to keep up,” he whispered against her lips after he pulled back slightly, ending the kiss. He kissed her forehead before he left her alone in the bathroom aglow with an ocean of lit candles.

After Sugar dried herself off, she made her way over to the sink to look at the woman in the mirror but arched her eyebrow as she noticed a hot pink toothbrush resting in a toothbrush holder fixtured to the bathroom wall. She hesitantly picked up the toothbrush and stared at it for a long moment as her overwhelmed brain realized that the toothbrush was for her.

Chef had bought her a toothbrush.

He was making it harder and harder to keep this simple—to stick to her rules.

But every time she attempted to stay on course, he always did or said something that wanted to stray off the beaten path.

Sugar closed her eyes and groaned aloud as she realized that Chef was the wrong man to be a no-strings thing with. She decided to put the toothbrush to good use by aggressively brushing her teeth with some of his cinnamon toothpaste, utterly angry at herself for putting herself in this predicament. Putting herself in a situation where her damaged heart might have a second chance at love.

She promised herself that she wouldn’t let this happen.

She swore to herself that all she needed was herself, but she was steadily and surely wanting…him.

It’s not too late to fix this, a tiny voice in the back of her head.

When she was finished brushing her teeth, she went in search of him. She found him in the kitchen cleaning up his mess from making her breakfast. Her nervous heart pounded inside of her chest.

Tell him it’s over, that voice said.

“Look at me,” she ordered when he didn’t notice her presence.

Chef stopped his task and turned to face her, arching an eyebrow.

Sugar said as she slowly sauntered towards him, “You’re fucking evil, you know that? Ever since I met you, you made it your mission to infiltrate every inch of my life and my thoughts. You trying to make me addicted you so I keep coming back for more and more. You bend my rules and make me break them.”

“You’ve known since day one that I’m selfish, Sugar,” he said.

She closed in on him. “I should’ve said no to all of this.”

“But instead you said yes and you wanna know why?”

She scoffed, “Sure, since you know more about me than I do.”

Chef tilted his head down, brushing his lips against hers. “Because sweet responsible Sugar is a little selfish deep down.”

“You made me that way,” she said.

“No, you’ve always been that way,” he said. “I’ve just made it my responsibility to bring it out of you any way I can.”

Sugar gripped his bearded chin roughly. “You bastard.”

He gave her a devilish smile and undid her towel to make it fall to the floor. “Tell me something I don’t know, darlin’.”

She rose to the tips of her toes and stamped her mouth over his, thrusting her tongue into the depths of his mouth. She dominated his mouth before she pulled back enough to catch his bottom lip with her teeth and tug on it hard before she ended the kiss. A heated look radiated from his handsome face as he gazed down at her, his gray eyes pierced into her. He stole an angry kiss from her and she gave into it.

They both stumbled out of the kitchen and into the living room, collapsing onto the couch with him on top of her. She didn’t care at her neglected cellphone dug into her back as he pounded her pussy on that couch. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. One of his feet were planted on the floor for balance. His muscular arms braced the armrest that the top of her head tapped against with every deliciously rough thrust.

They fucked like animals. There was no flowery words in the dictionary or a thesaurus to describe it. It was rough and desperate. They fucked like they hated each other. Then she came hard. She came from how his pelvis smacked against her clit every single time he impaled her with his dick. She came from being…selfish. He filled her pussy with his cum.

When it was all over, Sugar reached underneath her back to retrieve her cell that she had been lying on top of as they both caught their breath. The screen lit up to reveal an unread text message that was sent a few minutes before.

It was a text message from her twin brother Sully.

Sully: WHAT THE EVERLIVING FUCK, SHUG?!!!!???!!!!

She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion at the out-of-place text message.

On top of the text messages, there was a notification for six missed calls. She went to the call log and immediately her heart stopped as she read the first very item. It was an outgoing call to Sully time-stamped just moments before he sent that text message.

“Oh, my god,” she gasped as she began to panic.

She accidentally dialed Sully when she and Chef were having sex!

Chapter End Notes:

It's on and poppin' on! I couldn't help but burst out laughing as I wrote those last few paragraphs. I guess I was being a little selfish, LMAO. This chapter took a completely different direction and a lot of it as to do with the mood music for this chapter. I hope you guys liked it!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.